The Joy of Not Rushing

One of the things I pride myself on is my ability to estimate how long something will take and plan accordingly. I'm rarely late and usually early for appointments, school drop-offs and pick-ups, get-togethers, and so on.

Having four kids, two of whom are toddlers, has made everything take a little longer. It took me a little while to learn to pad my time estimates, but I'm pretty much on my game these days.

Unfortunately, the more personalities involved and the more you have going on, the likelier it is that things won't go quite according to plan.

It's when things start to derail that I am at my worst as a parent.

A three-year-old does not live his life by the clock. He does not care if you need to be somewhere in 15 minutes. He doesn't know what 15 minutes is. He doesn't understand that if he gets to finish watching this episode of "Blue's Clues," Mommy will be late to pick up his brothers from school. He doesn't understand (or care) that if he doesn't walk just a smidge faster, he'll throw off Mommy's carefully laid-out timetable for the afternoon. And he doesn't realize Just. How. Slowly. He's. Eating.

One recent Tuesday, I had the brilliant idea to go to the bank, then hit Target, then eat dinner, then head off to drop my two older boys at Hebrew school. I worked backward from the Hebrew school start time, estimated how long dinner would take, how long Target would take, what I needed to do at the bank (make a deposit in the ATM), how long it would take to get there, added 10 minutes for security and wiggle room, and set out at the appointed time, after filling everybody in on the plan. Everyone was on board, and my oldest even made it into a game to see if we could really hit all of my timing goals.

We got to the bank exactly when I estimated we would. The ATM gave me trouble, so it took a few minutes longer than I expected, but we were still on our way to Target exactly when I hoped to be. I had left us an hour for Target and knew exactly what I needed to get. Of course, once you actually get to Target, you find many other things you, er, "need," but I would have had plenty of time except for three setbacks: the pharmacy, where I just wanted to ask a quick question, was packed; it turned out the last item I needed was across the store from where I was; and the lines at the checkout were long and slow. Still, we had time to eat dinner. If we rushed.

I tried to rush, except...except I forgot to factor in the time it would take to walk across the parking lot to the car with a pokey toddler, unload the Target purchases, then walk back across the parking lot (with a pokey toddler) to the restaurant, which was right next to Target. I tried to rush, but I was met with resistance. He didn't want to hold my hand, so I had to half drag him, fighting and screaming across the parking lot.

And when I saw the line at the restaurant, I knew my timeline was blown. We were going to be late, and there was nothing I could do about it. Had I known it would then take half an hour to get our food after we ordered it, I would have gone somewhere quicker to begin with, but we all had our hearts set on this particular restaurant.

So obviously the three-year-old decides to eat one tortilla chip at a time, one grain of rice, pick at his food. This is how he always eats, but just this once, just this once, I hoped he would hurry himself a bit. But no amount of cajoling, explaining, or chivvying got him to pick up his pace even a little.

I tried to rush, and in the trying, I became more and more impatient. I yelled. I berated. I sighed heavily. Time stretched out. Every little thing seemed to take three times longer than it really did. I was angry and agitated. And when we finally, finally, all got in the car, we were already 15 minutes late, before even driving away. Did it even matter anymore if we rushed? What was another five minutes at this point?

I was so annoyed. I really dislike being late, and I especially dislike when other people make me late, even if those other people are small persons who live their lives marching to a whole different drummer.

By contrast, the following Friday, I had very little to do. I had work to do, but I had largely given up on doing it, because the baby has been clingy and the three-year-old needed attention. I had one short errand to run that was not time-sensitive, and we had a few hours before we had to pick up the older boys from school. I decided to run my errand and then take the little ones out to lunch at McDonald's.

I ran my errand, which took longer than it needed to, but was enjoyable for the relaxed nature of the thing. Then we got to McDonald's, ordered our food, and ate, slowly, savoring every bite of chicken nugget, every french fry, every dip in the ketchup. I set the three-year-old loose in the Play Place, where he climbed up and down and around, calling, "Look, Mommy!" Every glance at my watch showed plenty of time. Plenty of time. He can play for ages. He can just play.

I was so patient. I enjoyed watching him. I enjoyed just sitting, playing Candy Crush, listening to his imaginative game as he climbed through the play structure, narrating his ascent. "Look, Mommy! I can touch the rocks here. Look at this wall! Hi, Mommy! See?" I enjoyed letting the baby explore a little. We were the only ones there. We had the place to ourselves, and it was quiet and pleasant and lovely.

And when we finally really did have to go, we still had a little wiggle room. It didn't matter if we left McDonald's at 2:10 or 2:20. We'd get to the school in time. The only difference would be whether I was first or last in the car pickup line, and did that really matter? Not really. So we made our way to the car, headed on up to the school, and were early for pickup.

As we sat in the car line (we were the second car), I resolved not to rush so much. I resolved to savor the space to breathe a little, to explore, to toddle slowly along, to eat one chip at a time. I want to be on time, but being on time doesn't mean rushing. It means leaving more time to let things fall as they may. It means letting go of an errand or a bit of work to instead let your kid be a kid. He'll have to live by the clock soon enough. Maybe it's time I ditched the watch and joined him in the play structure.

Watching What We Say To Our Kids

When my oldest, N, was young, probably toddler-aged, I read in a book or on a blog or in some article a very, very important bit of parenting advice that has stuck with me more than anything else I've read or tried, and applies regardless of what other parenting or discipline methods you subscribe to. It has to do with how we talk to our kids, both in praise and in displeasure.

It's a simple concept, really, but in practice it takes concentration and self-control. What it boils down to is, when we talk to our children about their behavior, positive or negative, good or bad, it's vital to talk about the action, not the character of the child. We need to reinforce actions we want them to take again, and we want to point out and correct actions we want them to change. What we don't want to do is praise or criticize things they can't change or traits they can't "do."

Let's look at a positive example first.

Let's say your kid is very smart (of course!), and they bring home their first report card, and it's straight A's (of course), and the teacher's comment is that your child is a pleasure to have in class and is above grade level in every subject. That's fantastic. You're ecstatic! You've always demanded academic excellence of your children, and you knew he had it in him, and you're thrilled that he's living up to all your expectations for him. You want to convey to your child that you are very happy with his performance in school and want him to continue to excel, put out effort, work hard, and enjoy learning.

What not to say: "You're so smart!"

Why not? He is smart! He should be proud of himself!

Yes, but "smart" isn't something he does or doesn't do. "Smart" isn't something he can change about himself. "Smart" isn't a lesson he can learn or an action he can repeat. And what happens when he fails his first test or forgets to do his homework or gets yelled at by a teacher? Is he suddenly not "smart"? How is he supposed to remedy any setbacks with "smart"?

What to say instead: "You worked hard and it shows! I'm so proud of the effort you made!"

Here, you're praising what he did, not the trait of "smartness." This way he knows that hard work and persistence is what's going to get him ahead in life and in school. "Smart" is all well and good, but it's what you do with "smart" that will make the difference. Plenty of smart people do poorly in school, fail out, or give up, either because they're bored or because they don't know how to deal with not understanding something or failing once. With praising the effort rather than the trait, he now knows that it's up to him to continue to put out that effort to do well, and that if there is a setback or failure, he can step it up and keep trying in order to succeed.

Now, let's look at the flip side - a negative example.

By negative, I mean a behavior you want to correct.

Let's say your kid has trouble getting ready for school on time. She dawdles when she's getting dressed, wastes time while eating breakfast, and takes twice as long as she should to pack up her backpack, and even then manages to forget stuff, and you find yourself constantly having to bring her lunch or homework to school for her later. This, understandably, causes frustration every morning, and in a moment of pique, you yell at her.

What not to say: "You're so lazy! What's wrong with you? It's the same every morning! Why are you so slow?!"

Why not? She is being lazy and slow! And it's annoying! And you're sick of it!

Yes, of course you're sick of it, and frustrated, and you can't understand why she hasn't learned yet. But telling her she's lazy and slow is reinforcing an image she's already created of herself. And if she's a lazy, slow kid, then that's just who she is - see, even Mom thinks so - and it's not going to change now. You even said so: it's the same every morning.

What to say instead: (And, yes, you can yell this if you need to!) "It takes so long for you to get ready in the morning! Why don't you get your stuff together the night before! That would save so much time, and I wouldn't have to constantly be bringing your things to you at school! You need to get dressed before you eat breakfast, and you need to eat more quickly."

Here, we're talking about specific actions she can take to improve the mornings. Suggesting, even yelling, that she get her backpack together in the evening gives her a goal, something clear she can do to help her along and save her time. Maybe she honestly hasn't thought of doing that, and having you plant the idea is all she needed. Knowing that she doesn't get breakfast until she's dressed might mean she'll get dressed more quickly, because she has a goal. And, if you're willing to go that far, you can even add in that if she doesn't get dressed fast enough, she won't have time for breakfast and will either have to skip it (not recommended) or take a banana or something along in the car or on the walk to school so she isn't starving.

It's very important in a scenario like this that when she does make a positive change, such as getting her backpack ready the night before, that you acknowledge it. And, referring to above, don't say, "Good job!" Say, "Wow, getting your things ready last night made it so much easier this morning. Look at that, you're ready to go 10 minutes early!" You don't actually have to praise her, but you definitely need to show that you noticed and point out what a difference it made. If she's anything like my kid, you'll see her swell with pride at having done something "right," and hopefully that's a feeling she'll want to recapture and will continue to improve.

Let's look at one more example of each.

First, the positive.

Let's say your teenage daughter is very pretty (of course!). People are always telling her, "You're so pretty!" Even you take pride in the fact that she's so beautiful and perfect. One day, she wears an outfit that suits her especially well. Her makeup is done just-so, her hair is shiny and perfect. You're so lucky to have such a pretty daughter.

What not to say: "You're so pretty!"

Why not? She is pretty!

Well, we all know that beauty can fade, and while girls can get by on their looks for a while, eventually they also need some substance to their character to be anything in life. I hope that beyond beauty, you have dreams for your daughter to succeed in areas that require persistence, intelligence, or kindness as well.

What to say instead: I think there's a twofold reaction needed here. First, if you want to express that she's looking especially good that day, start with, "Wow, I love that outfit on you. You pick out such nice clothing." This is praising the act of choosing an attractive outfit, rather than the trait of "being pretty." She can continue to choose flattering, appropriate clothing for herself even if something happens to alter her current looks. But it's also important that you don't emphasize beauty over everything else. Be sure you're praising her for other achievements or activities, such as acts of kindness, persistence, or academic excellence. She needs to know there's more to life than looks, and she also needs to know that you value her for more than her appearance.

And now something you want to change.

Your four-year-old son is having trouble with his behavior at preschool. He's been biting and pinching other kids, and finally the director calls you in and says that if there's one more incident, he'll be asked to leave. The violence, defiance, and other difficult behaviors have to stop, because it's causing too much of a disruption and other parents are angry that their children are being hurt. You know it's time for some serious action on your part.

What not to say: "You're such a bad kid! Look at you, four years old and getting kicked out of school! Why can't you behave?!"

Why not?

I hope this time it's obvious. At four years old, you've already told him he's "bad" and that he can't behave. He's going to internalize statements like these and just assume that it's true: He's a bad kid who can't behave. And guess what bad kids who can't behave do? They misbehave!

Calling names or assigning negative traits to your child will only make things worse. Instead, they need to know both the "don't"s and "do"s of what happened so that they can hopefully make corrections in the future.

What to say instead: "Biting and pinching hurts other kids and makes them sad. If you hurt other kids, you won't be allowed to go to school anymore, and I think that will make you sad. You always tell me how much you like going to school." That's the "don't" part. But he may need more help. Continue with, "If you don't like something another child does, you need to use your words to tell them. Say, 'Don't do that!' instead of pinching, or go tell the teacher if you're upset about something." Now he has an action he can take. You've given him an alternative to violence. You're telling him to use words, and not just a vague, "use words," but exactly what words to use.

It's important to model that behavior for him, too. If he tries to bite or pinch a sibling when he's angry, or he takes a swipe at you when you do something he doesn't like, that's your opportunity to show him, in the heat of the moment, how he should act. Stop the negative behavior first, physically if you have to (grab his wrist to stop a pinch, or pull him away from the sibling - not something violent, just stop it before he gets there, if possible), and then supply the words instead. "We don't pinch, remember?! Say, 'David, I was playing with that toy and you took it. Please give it back!'" Or, "We don't hit Mommy! If you're angry with me, you can say, 'Mommy, I'm mad that you won't let me watch TV!'" Then encourage him to try it. That doesn't mean you have to let him do whatever it was he wanted to do, but you're giving him words for his feelings and a healthy way to express those feelings, instead of hitting you.

I'm not saying you're going to see a change overnight in any of these scenarios. Indeed, if there are deeper issues affecting your child's behavior, it may take far more than simple words to make that change. But words are a great place to start, because kids take far more meaning from what we say than we think they will. They also imitate what they hear and internalize values based on what you say to them. If we show them the proper behavior, demonstrate it in context, and live according to the values we want them to absorb, most kids will live up to, or even exceed, the goals we have for them.

Speech Therapy

My three-year-old, SB, didn't start really speaking until he was about 17 months old, old enough for a little concern from most people. However, NJ, the oldest, also didn't start really talking until that age, and he went from a few signs and pointing to complex sentences in the space of about six months, maybe less; I figured SB would follow a similar pattern, so I didn't worry. At his 18-month well checkup, the doctor asked if he spoke at least 10 words. I had counted seven the day before, which is quite low for a bright 18-month-old, but I explained about NJ having been the same way and that I wasn't worried. I didn't get him evaluated by an audiologist or speech pathologist. I didn't take my doctor's referral to Regional Center. By 19 months, these were his words:



1) Moo ("What does a cow say?")
2) Moooor (More)
3) Moooooo (Moon)
4) Baa ("What does a sheep say?")
5) Mo-mo (Remote)
6) Bapa (iPod)
7) Mama
8) Derrrr (Truck, switch (as in, switch sides when nursing), train, among other things)


(Yes, one of his early words was iPod. He still loves that thing, too.)

In fact, I was right. Just a couple months after this appointment, SB suddenly started really talking, putting together two- and three-word phrases. By the time he was two years old, he was building complex sentences. There was one problem, though. His words were terribly unclear. NJ almost from the start spoke remarkably clearly. Complete strangers could have a conversation with him before he was three. There were very few words he said in a funny "learning to talk" way. (We remember a fond few, such as "battached" for "attached," but really, he spoke incredibly well.) SB not so much. I assumed it was just him still trying to figure out how to make the sounds, and surely by the time he was two or 2-1/2, he'd be speaking more clearly.

Alas, not. Some words gradually improved, or he'd suddenly begin saying something more clearly than he used to, but, for the most part, if you didn't live with him, you couldn't understand him, and even if you did live with him, you had to work pretty hard to understand him. I and NJ are the best at deciphering his speech, and other people will randomly catch words and sentences that I don't, but the faster he goes, the less clearly he speaks. I didn't know how to fix that, or if I should worry, or when I should worry, or what I should do.

At his three-year checkup, with a kid who spoke in totally unintelligible paragraphs, I expressed my concerns to his pediatrician, who referred us to an audiologist and speech pathologist. His hearing tested fine, so we went to the speech pathologist where she confirmed that his grammar, vocabulary, and syntax were quite advanced, but his enunciation problem was "severe." The good news was, it appeared he could make the various sounds, he just didn't always use them properly. Most consonants were "m", "n", or "d", and even some of his vowels were distorted. "Big" and "bridge" sounded like "buuuuh," for example. The speech therapist said we'd see her once or twice a month and she'd send us home with exercises to try to form new speech habits.

We have quite the task ahead of us. The goal is to create new habits and break the old ones. We need to get him to say the ending consonants: "ha-T," not "ha';" "Po-P" not "Po'." And so on. Then we have to fix initial "s" and initial "f" (he uses "d" for both). Then we have to work on other strident sounds, and reduce the lisp, and fix some other initial "s", and so on.

Fortunately, SB is very bright and realizes that it's hard for people to understand him. He will repeat himself over and over again in the hopes that this time you'll get it, but he doesn't know how to fix it himself. But he's getting there. A few things, he's already fixed on his own, and others he corrects when he remembers to. I can see that eventually, he'll be speaking more clearly. I just feel so bad for him, because he has so much to say and so many questions to ask and so much bubbling in his head that he wants to get out there, and he trips over his own tongue trying to express all the wonders of the world that an almost 3-1/2-year-old has discovered. And after a long descriptive paragraph, our response, more often than not, is, "I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you said."

I think it's hard to be willing to seek help when you think your child might have a problem. No one wants to think their child isn't "normal." But realizing that we could help SB to be better understood, which would improve all of our quality of life, made getting him evaluated and starting treatment totally worthwhile. I think there's a lot less stigma to various kinds of therapy than there used to be, and, in the end, when you see the change in your child when he's getting the help he needs, you know you've done the right thing.